A Wishful Romance
by Punching Bagg
Summary: Timmy feels a little down in the dumps, he is unable to figure out why a black cloud is hanging over his head. Once he sets his eyes on Tootie he has a deep feeling in his stomach. Timmy wants to feel love and what it is like to be loved.


A Wishful Romance

Chapter one: Timmy's Dream

In was another boring day at school for Timmy Turner, his hunchbacked crazy teacher, Mr. Crocker was lecturing… Timmy slammed his head down on his table.

"Is something wrong, honey?" Wanda asked quietly. Cosmo and herself were sketches on a piece of binder paper on Timmy's desk.

"I…am…bored," Timmy said loud enough for Crocker to hear.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Turner?" Crocker turned to face Timmy

"No Mr. Crocker," Timmy moaned.

"Care to answer the question on the board?"

"No." Timmy's head was still down. The bell finally rang for lunch. Timmy slowly got up and grabbed his paper. Dragging his feet he left the classroom slumping sleepily.

"I feel like there is something in my life missing," Timmy grumbled as he got to the cafeteria. He sat down at one of the empty tables and put his head down.

"Maybe you just need a good lunch," Wanda said with a smiled. She twirled her wand to create a bag lunch under the table in Timmy's hands. Timmy brought it up to the table; it was a basic brown bag. The lunch was not what a ten-year-old boy's mother would have paced. Timmy took one bite of the large sandwich with, two or three bites he swallowed the piece. Then he took a sip of the drink. The bell rang for class. Timmy walked slowly to his class; everything was hazy once he sat down. Once he woke up class was over.

"Mr. Turner," Crocker spoke up as the bell rang. "I'd like to talk to you." As the class rushed out to get home Timmy walked over to Crockers' desk. "Mr. Turner, I've noticed that you have been sinking these last few days. I am concerned for you and your grades."

_Mr. Crocker had never said that before, why did he? He can't really mean it. He must just want my fairies…_ Timmy thought.

"I want you to right a report, Mr. Turner, It will be at least three pages long and it must tell why you have been failing my class recently. To tell you the truth, you where passing my class, until you started to sleep. Got it?" Timmy nodded his head sleepily, sighing to his teacher that he understood. Timmy walked out of the class with his pack…

"I feel empty inside guys," Timmy said to his paper.

"Maybe you just need some sleep," Cosmo suggested. Timmy walked up to his house opened the door and was greeted by his mother.

"Hello honey how was school?" Mrs. Turner asked.

"Fine as usual," Timmy grumbled as he went up to his room.

"Have you noticed anything strange about our boy?" Mrs. Turner asked her husband. Mr. Turner sat at the table with the newspaper.

"When not recently honey, why?" Mr. Turner asked oblivious to Timmy's depression. Timmy was now sitting at his desk with a piece of binder paper that read: Timmy Turner, Mr. Crocker, English. He also had a title: Timmy's Report.

"How should I start this report?" Timmy mumbled. Timmy sat at his table for hours and hours without moving his eyes were closed, soon he began to dream.

Timmy Turner looked over a grassy green hill. There was a crystal clean stream that when down, there were butterflies around some flowers. There was a small cottage, simple wooden with a chimney puffing smoke. Timmy smiled has he walked forward to the cottage. He opened the door to the cottage. In the cottage was a table with three chairs. There were two lit candles on the table. Over to the left was a closed door. On the opposite side was another door this door was just ajar. Lastly there was a fire burning with a pot of soup boiling over it. Timmy walked over to the first door. In it was a bathroom, a sink, tub, showerhead, and decorated walls with special towel racks. Some noise came from the room across, Timmy hid in the bathroom. He left the door partly open. A young girl walked over to the soup. She dipped a ladle in it; she grabbed a wooden bowl with her other and poured herself some soup. She turned around.

"Tootie?" Timmy whispered. Timmy slowly opened the door.

"Timmy," Tootie smiled. There was a flash of light. Timmy sat up. His paper was stuck on his face.

"Where am I?" Timmy rubbed his eyes.

"You're in your room," Wanda poofed by him. "It's 11:34" Timmy looked out his window.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"A few hours…" Timmy walked to his bed and got in it. Lazily brining the covers over him. He slept in his clothes. Once his eyes were closed he dreamed again. Timmy opened his eyes. He was standing on a beach, the sand under his feet. The water swaying back and forth the sun was setting, creating a golden glow on the sea. Timmy slowly walked down. His hair blew in the wind as his dead eyes set on the falling sun. He turned to his left, he spotted a picnic; a girl waved at him to come in her direction. Timmy walked to the girl.

"Timmy, you finally made it," Tootie giggled. Timmy felt himself falling as he sank into the ground.

"Timmy, time for breakfast," a voice called. Timmy woke up.

_Another dream with Tootie, are my dreams telling me something? _ Timmy rubbed his head. He headed down stairs. His mother greeted him as she set a plate of pancakes, with butter and syrup. Timmy cut a piece of it chewed then swallowed. He repeated this process until he was done. Timmy walked out to the bus stop with his pack to the bus stop.

"I think my dreams are telling me something, what do you guys think?" Timmy asked his fairies who were in the form of stickers on Timmy's pack.

"I think I know what they are saying Timmy," Cosmo said stupidly with a big grin on his face. "They say… 'Feed your goldfish' am I right?"

"No I keep having dreams about Tootie," Timmy mumbled.

"Who?" Wanda asked. "I couldn't hear you."

"Tootie."

"Awe," Wanda smiled. "Well sport it looks like you're in love."


End file.
